


Drums & Stuff

by coreopsis



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic At The Disco
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreopsis/pseuds/coreopsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Bob and Patrick own a music store and Panic are just getting started in Chicago</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drums & Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jardinjaponais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jardinjaponais/gifts).



"Why are we going to a store called Drums &amp; Stuff to pick up guitar strings?" Spencer asked, quite reasonably he thought.

"Because they have more than just drums," Brendon replied absently as he looked for a place to park. "That's the "and Stuff" part of the name."

"Yeah, but Guitar Center is, like, five blocks from your apartment." Spencer pointed out a spot just down the street from their destination. He waited until Brendon had successfully parallel parked before adding, "What's the real reason we drove all the way over here for strings that I'm not even sure you really need?"

Brendon grinned brightly and shrugged. "Okay, you caught me. I'm totally stalking one of the owners."

"For fuck's sake, Bren." Spencer rolled his eyes. "Didn't we already discuss this after the 'William Beckett Incident'?" He made the air quotes and then sort of hated himself for it.

"No, no, this is different. I don't care if Patrick has a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever. I don't want to fuck him, just get him to be my mentor." Brendon had gone completely starry-eyed and Spencer couldn't help but laugh at him as they climbed out of the car.

"Oh, this is even better." Spencer opened his phone to fire off a text to Ryan because he could not keep this shit to himself.

"Don't bother telling Ryan," Brendon said, and Spencer decided that Brendon might know him a little too well. "He's the one who told me about the genius of Patrick in the first place."

Spencer frowned and put away his phone. He hated it when Ryan knew stuff before he did. Ryan was always so smug about it.

"And for your information, I do need new strings." Brendon took off down the sidewalk and Spencer hurried to catch up.

When they walked in the door, the first thing Spencer heard was someone saying, "Don't be a fucking moron. If you keep doing that, you'll fuck up your wrist and then what'll you do?"

Spencer looked around to find the speaker and saw a blond guy in a black hoodie standing over a twelve year old boy, who was sitting behind a drum kit looking terrified. The kid said, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just try it again and do it right this time." The guy in the hoodie waved a hand at the kit, and then he looked up and saw Spencer staring. "Did you need something?"

Spencer shook his head and turned away, but he glanced back over his shoulder because there was something about the guy. Something kind of interesting. He kept an eye on the drum lesson as he pretended to browse the drumsticks, and was surprised when the guy in the hoodie told the kid he'd done a good job and the kid beamed like he'd just won a Grammy.

The kid left and the guy in the hoodie went behind the counter and started doing something on a laptop, so Spencer dropped his pretense of shopping and wandered over to where Brendon was looking at a shiny red Fender in a display on the wall. "Did you get your strings?" Spencer asked, and Brendon waved a couple packages at him in answer. "Did you see your stalking victim yet?"

"No," Brendon said, finally dragging his gaze away from the Fender. He looked over at the counter at where the guy in the hoodie was now ringing up someone's purchase. "Maybe that's him. But he doesn't really look like a Patrick."

Spencer squinted at the guy. "I don't know. He could be a Patrick. I mean, what does a Patrick look like?"

"He should be wearing a hat," Brendon said decisively.

"Seriously? What? Only dudes named Patrick wear hats or is it that if a dude is named Patrick he must be wearing a hat?"

"No. I mean, neither. Ryan said that Patrick the Musical Genius always wears a hat."

Spencer sighed deeply. "Okay, whatever. Are you gonna go talk to the guy or are you going to just skulk around like a creeper until he throws you out of his store?"

"I think I'll just come back some other time." Brendon glanced at the guy behind the counter again. "He doesn't pass the hat test."

"I need new friends," Spencer said under his breath. "Ones that aren't insane."

"What? I'm still buying the strings," Brendon said as if this was a defense against his possible insanity.

"Yeah, okay, let's get it over with."

When they got to the counter and Brendon put down his strings, Spencer looked at the guy in the hoodie and said, "So, I don't suppose your name is Patrick is it?"

"Oh my God," groaned Brendon very quietly as he handed over the money for the strings.

"No, it's Bob," said the guy in the hoodie, who had very blue eyes and a lip ring. "Patrick's not here right now."

"But he does work here, right?"

"Spencer," Brendon hissed, but Spencer just waved him off.

"Yeah." Bob was looking at them both like they were crazy now, and that bothered Spencer more than he ever would have expected. He thought he'd gotten used to getting that look when he was with Brendon. Bob handed over the receipt and Spencer grabbed it and shoved it into Brendon's hand and dragged him out of the shop.

"What the fuck?" Brendon said, pulling away from Spencer's hold on his arm. "And you call me crazy?"

Spencer shrugged and didn't explain as they walked back to the car. He couldn't even explain it to himself.

***

A week later, Spencer finally admitted that his snare had to be replaced. He'd repaired it the best he could, but it just didn't sound right. Instead of going to his usual place, he found himself driving across town to Drums &amp; Stuff. He didn't take Brendon with him.

The shop was pretty empty except for a guy in a fedora noodling around on an acoustic guitar in the back corner and Bob sitting at the counter, tossing a drumstick in the air and then catching it. Spencer stood by the door and watched for a moment, as the stick spun in the air and Bob's pale hand shot out to snatch it back. The concentration on Bob's face was kind of hot, but then he looked up and all that focus was on Spencer.

Spencer fought back a shiver and smiled. "Um. I, uh, I need a new snare."

"You've come to the right place," Bob said with just a hint of a smirk. "We just happen to sell snares."

"Yeah, I need one." Spencer looked away before he said something even stupider, and wandered over to where the drums were set up on display.

Bob came out from behind the counter and stood next to Spencer. "Tell me about your set up."

Spencer told him and Bob got a thoughtful look on his face. "Okay, here's what we carry..."

Fifteen minutes later, Spencer knew everything there was to know about the various snares and Bob's opinions on most of them. He had no reason not to buy a snare right this minute--he knew which one he wanted and knew that Bob would agree--and yet he hesitated to seal the deal because then he'd have no reason to talk to Bob any more.

"So what do you think about the Gretsch?" Spencer stroked his fingers around the rim, and felt a kind of longing that he'd never felt for a single piece of equipment before.

"It's a good choice for you," Bob said, looking at Spencer appraisingly. "It'll be very durable and it's got a unique sound. Want to try it out?"

"Yeah, of course, yeah," Spencer said and snapped his mouth shut before he embarrassed himself with even more babbling.

Bob didn't seem to notice, just pulled a stool over to the snare and said, "Go for it, Spencer."

"How'd you know my name?" Spencer asked, sitting down and taking the sticks that Bob held out to him.

"Your friend said it last time you were here."

Spencer smiled and tilted his head, looking up at Bob from behind where his bangs had slipped over one eye. "You remember the names of all your customers?"

"Not all of them," Bob said with a tiny smile.

Spencer played a rudiment, listening carefully to the sound, then played a couple longer ones. After he finished he looked up at Bob and very seriously announced, "I'm a little in love with this snare."

"I thought you would be," Bob said and ran his fingers around the rim where Spencer had stroked it before. Spencer's mouth went dry and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again.

"How much is it?" he asked and felt his heart nearly break when Bob told him the price. "That's a little out of my price range at the moment. I'll have to come back."

"Sure," said Bob, looking not too disappointed by the lack of a sale. "Why don't I hold it for you? Just so you know it's here. Waiting for you."

Spencer blinked and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

When Spencer walked out of the store, he heard the guy in the fedora walk up to Bob and say, "Since when do we hold stuff for people we don't know?"

The door swung shut before Spencer could hear Bob's answer.

***

It took Spencer a couple days to rearrange his finances--and call his parents and ask for a small loan--before he could go back to Drums &amp; Stuff. He knew his snare would still be there waiting for him, but he felt nervous anyway. He figured out why when he stepped inside the shop just as Bob said to the trucker hat-wearing guy that Spencer had been assuming was Patrick, "No--just--fuck, let me show you."

Then Bob sat down behind a kit and started playing, and he looked so..._hot_. His playing was strong and fast and _intense_ and Spencer felt his whole body flush and his cock twitch and he nearly groaned as every beat of Bob's sticks echoed through his body. Spencer had been playing drums for almost ten years and had watched countless other drummers in other bands, and he'd never been so turned on so instantly before. He shuddered and started to back out of the store, but before he got two steps, Bob and Patrick both looked up and saw him.

Bob stopped playing, and Patrick muttered something about getting something from the back. Once he was gone, Spencer cleared his throat and said, "I, um, I came for my snare."

Bob smiled and went around behind the counter where the snare was all boxed up and ready to go. After he took Spencer's money and handed his receipt over, Bob said, "I'm afraid I need one more thing."

"What? I paid for it, it's mine."

"I need to see you playing it for real sometime." Bob sounded serious but there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested that inside he was laughing. Whether that was at Spencer or himself, Spencer couldn't tell. "Just to make sure it went to a good home, you understand."

"I understand," Spencer said with equal gravity. When he'd folded up a flyer and stuck it in his back pocket before leaving home, he'd kind of planned to invite Bob to come to the show his band was playing on Friday, but on the way over he'd talked himself out of it. Bob probably got invited to see a fuckload of crappy bands just starting out and why would he want to come see some unknown guys from Vegas who were just starting to break into the Chicago scene? But he'd asked, so Spencer pulled the flyer out of his pocket and unfolded it before handing it over.

"We're playing Friday night." Spencer handed over the flyer and pointed at the very bottom. "That's us. So uh, you'll want to get there pretty early."

"Panic! at the Disco, huh?" Bob flattened the flyer out on the counter, smoothing his hand over it in a mesmerizing motion. "I'll be there."

"If you wanted to bring Patrick, you'd get to see our lead singer's head explode."

"Patrick's probably busy that night," Bob said quickly.

"Oh, well, that's okay. Brendon probably needs his head anyway. You know. To sing." Spencer couldn't stop babbling.

"Yeah, a head would probably be kind of important for a lead singer to have," Bob agreed with a solemn nod and this time Spencer knew Bob was laughing at him, but he didn't care.

***

The day before the show, Spencer stopped by Drums &amp; Stuff to pick up some new sticks, but Bob wasn't there so he left empty handed. Patrick just raised an eyebrow at him and Spencer felt like a worse stalker than Brendon.

When he explained all this to Ryan later, Ryan laughed and said, "Do you know where Bob lives and which train he takes to get to work?"

"What? No." Spencer was confused as to what that had to do with anything and it would have been creepy if he'd known.

"Then Brendon is still one up on you."

"Did you tell him?"

"Maybe," Ryan said, but he looked distinctly shifty.

"You shouldn't encourage him," Spencer said sternly, knowing it would probably have little effect.

"Jon told him about the train," Ryan said, like that was some kind of defense.

"How do you two even know Patrick-- you know what?" Spencer threw his hands up and shook his head. "I don't even want to know."

***

"There's like twenty people out there," Ryan reported gloomily as he returned from looking out from the side of the stage.

"And we will blow their faces off," said Brendon with an attempt at bravado, but Spencer could hear the tremor in his voice and see the way he kept rubbing his palms down the sides of his jeans as he paced around the backstage area.

"There's still some time before we go on," Jon said, tuning his bass and tapping his toes to the song playing on the PA. "More people will show up. I invited at least thirty myself."

"See there, Ry, Jon knows people. It'll be all right." Spencer clapped Ryan on the back and smiled but he wasn't sure how much he believed it himself.

"I saw Patrick," Ryan said and Brendon came to a stuttering halt in front of Ryan. Before he could say anything, Ryan continued, "And he had a couple guys with him."

Brendon shot a look at Spencer and said, "Was one of them kind of big with blond hair and a beard and a lip ring?"

"Yeah, and the other one was short with dark hair and a bunch of tattoos on his arms. He looked real cozy with Patrick."

"That'll be Pete," Jon said, looking mysteriously satisfied, but before Spencer could ask, Jon pointed at Brendon with a pick gripped between his thumb and forefinger. "Don't try to get between those two."

"I told you I don't want to fuck him, okay?" Brendon nearly shouted and then blushed when one of the other bands on the bill busted out laughing at him.

Brendon crossed his arms and said in a calmer voice, "It's not like that."

Spencer put an arm around Brendon and gave him a companionable hug. "I know it's not."

Brendon tilted his head onto Spencer's shoulder and murmured too low for Ryan and Jon to overhear, "But you totally want to fuck Bob, right?"

Spencer petted Brendon's hair for a minute and then nodded. "Oh hell yeah."

"Sweet," Brendon said and smacked a kiss onto Spencer's cheek.

"Yeah," Spencer said as it really hit him that he had to play in front of Bob, who was not only hot but a really awesome drummer in his own right. Nerves twisted his gut into knots and Spencer worried that he was going to throw up for the first time since they left Vegas. "Sweet."

The stage manager came back and said "Okay, boys, you're on," and Spencer forced himself to push the nerves down and just go out and play his best.

***

After they got settled on stage and Spencer was ticking off a light beat before bursting into the first song, Brendon yelled, "Hello, Chicago, we're Panic! at the Disco!" as if they were playing for 23,000 people at the United Center instead of on stage at a dumpy club that held at best a few hundred people and was maybe half full.

When a cheer went up that was bigger than the last time they played, Spencer thought maybe they'd make it someday.

***

When their set was over and their equipment was packed away, Spencer went to the bar and the first person he saw was Bob, who handed him a beer and yelled "Good show" over the sound of the next band starting their set.

"Thanks!" Spencer yelled back and took a long swig of beer to calm his nerves. It almost worked.

They drank in companionable silence and watched the band on stage for a while. They were not very good, and Spencer thought Panic was better. He wanted to know what Bob thought but was almost afraid to ask.

When the third song started, Bob leaned in close to Spencer and said, "These guys blow. Wanna go outside for a smoke?"

Spencer nodded emphatically and followed him outside into the alley that ran along the side of the venue. Bob pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Spencer.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't actually smoke," Spencer said, with a wry little smile. "I just wanted to get away from that crappy band."

"The drummer was pushing the beat," Bob said, lighting a cigarette and blowing out a long stream of smoke. "And I don't know what the hell their guitarist was doing."

"A shitload of drugs, I suspect," Spencer said, leaning against the wall at Bob's side. He shoved his apprehension down and decided to man up and just ask, "What did you think about us? I mean, professionally speaking. One musician to another."

"Are you fishing for compliments already?" Bob took a drag and let the smoke out the corner of his mouth as he grinned at Spencer, and Spencer was suddenly glad there was a nice solid wall at his back because his knees were feeling a little weak, especially when Bob added, "Mostly that comes _after_ I've slept with someone."

"Well," Spencer said and had no idea how to continue without sounding desperate and pathetic. He wanted to say 'yes, please, anytime, anywhere' but what if Bob wasn't even trying to come on to him? Spencer would sound like an idiot.

Bob saved him from embarrassing himself by saying, "You were good--certainly better that the crapfest we walked out on. With some more practice playing together and better gigs, I think you guys could be really fucking good."

"We've only had our bass player for a few weeks--our old one didn't like it here so he moved back home--so we're still kind of getting it together." Spencer nudged Bob's foot with the side of his own. "What about you? Do you play in a band?"

"Nothing regular. I'll sit in with some friends' bands every so often, but the store and the lessons keep me too busy to commit to anything full time."

"That's a shame because you're really good," Spencer said, trying to sound all cool and knowledgeable and not like a groupie or whatever. "I could probably learn a lot from your technique."

Bob laughed, and it made Spencer go warm all over. He could feel a blush rising in his cheeks as Bob tossed his cigarette butt to the ground and shifted closer. Bob gave him a look that had Spencer getting a little lost in Bob's eyes and said, "So, you wanna--"

But before Bob could finish, a guy with dark hair and tattoos down his arms stuck the upper half of his body out the door and said, "Bob--you gotta come see this. Pattycake has a baby stalker and they're geeking out over music and it's fucking _adorable_."

Spencer mentally cursed out the guy (he thought he might be the Pete that Jon mentioned). He wanted to grab Bob and demand to know what he was going to say, but instead he smiled weakly when Bob laughed and said, "That would be your Brendon, I guess."

"He's not _my_ Brendon," Spencer protested, but Bob was already following Pete back into the club. Spencer sighed and trailed along behind them.

***

When Spencer joined the group clustered around the far end of the bar where the music wasn't quite as loud, he couldn't help but smile at the sheer enthusiasm bursting from Brendon as he talked about music. Patrick was nodding along earnestly and occasionally adding his own comments whenever Brendon took a breath. Jon, Pete, and Bob were all watching with varying degrees of amusement, and Spencer could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way his lips were tucked between his teeth that Ryan was totally making mental notes. As Patrick went off on a tangent about Buddy Guy and some guitar stuff that went over Spencer's head, Spencer glanced over to find Bob watching him with a little smile. Spencer smiled back and quickly shifted his eyes away, hoping the light was too dim for his blush to be noticeable.

After the headliner's set had been finished for a while, the bartender started giving them all pointed looks, so Spencer and Jon each took one of Brendon's arms and started easing him away from Patrick. "We really have to get going before we're thrown out," Jon told Brendon soothingly. "You can talk to Patrick again some other time."

Brendon actually made grabby hands in Patrick's direction as they moved toward the door, and Spencer could hear Pete and Bob cracking up. He told himself not to look back, but he did anyway. Bob was kind of unbearably cute when he laughed--his eyes went all squinchy and he got these little grooves in his cheeks that were sort of like dimples, but not, and Spencer wanted to trace them with his tongue.

Spencer hoped he got to see Bob laugh again sometime soon.

***

On Saturday, Spencer had a shift at the bookstore day job that actually paid his half of the rent and then had band practice well into the evening, so by the time he was free to go by Drums &amp; Stuff to buy sticks, it was almost closing time. He rushed in still glancing at his watch, and then came to a halt when some unfamiliar guy behind the counter greeted him.

When Spencer just looked at him, the guy said, "Hey. Is there anything I can help you find?"

"Bob? I mean, um, Bob's not working today?" Spencer wanted to cover his face and maybe hide in his apartment for the rest of his life.

"Not officially, but he's in the office doing some paperwork. I can go get him, if you want?"

"No! That's okay, I just needed some sticks," Spencer said quickly and motioned over to where the sticks were.

Spencer grabbed some of his usual sticks and took them to the counter, and as the guy rung them up, Bob came out of the back and said, "Butcher, did you get those... Spencer. Hey."

"Hey," Spencer said with a little wave. He dropped his hand as he realized how dorky he probably looked, but Bob just smiled and came closer, leaning against the counter next to Spencer.

"Picking up new sticks," Bob said, after glancing at Spencer's purchase.

It wasn't a question but Spencer nodded and said, "I broke my last pair at band practice today."

"Yeah, I noticed that you're a hard hitter." The smirk playing over Bob's lips made Spencer's stomach go all swoopy and his mouth a little dry.

Neither of them looked at Butcher when he shoved the receipt across the counter at Spencer and said, "Yeah. I'm going to the back for...whatever. All this sexual tension is making my head hurt."

Bob snickered. "You feeling tense?"

Spencer swallowed hard and decided to go with honesty and hoped it wasn't too embarrassing. "Yeah, maybe a little. You?"

"Sure." Bob flicked his tongue over his lip ring and pressed his lips together briefly. "I know some relaxation techniques."

"Oh, really? Are they anywhere as good as your drum techniques?" Spencer arched an eyebrow and cocked one hip against the counter, a little shiver going down his spine when Bob's gaze swept down and then back up. Spencer was probably imagining that Bob's eyes were a little darker and there was a light flush creeping across his cheekbones.

"Maybe you should judge for yourself." Bob's eyebrows went up and then back down really quickly, and one corner of his mouth twitched. "If you're not busy tonight."

Spencer couldn't think of a single thing he had planned. Hanging out with Brendon? Going to a show with Ryan? He couldn't remember because his brain was filled with _Holy shit, Bob is asking me out! Bob! a date with Bob!_ He cleared his throat and said, "No, I'm free."

"If you'll give me a minute or two to help Butcher close up the shop, we could go for a drink or some dinner or something."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Spencer said, and picked up his drum sticks. "I'll go put these in my car and meet you outside in a few minutes."

Bob smiled and turned to go back to the office. As soon as Spencer got outside, he pulled out his phone and called Brendon.

"What were we doing tonight?" Spencer asked as soon as Brendon said hello.

"How could you forget the Terminator marathon? Jon's bringing pizza and Ryan's bringing weed. I already picked up the DVDs and you're supposed to get beer."

"Right. Right. Well, one of you guys will have to get the beer, because I can't make it."

"What do you mean you can't make it? What else have you got to do?" Brendon sounded so surprised that Spencer wondered if it had really been that long since he'd done something not involving one or more of his band.

"I have a date." Spencer ignored Brendon's weird little gaspy laugh and added casually, "With Bob Bryar."

"Patrick's partner, the drum god?" Brendon said, all laughter gone from his voice. He sounded impressed, which he should have been because Bob was kind of really, really awesome.

"I don't think--"

"No, it's okay, I know you totally lust after his mad teaching skills and drummer arms. You can't fool me, Spencer Smith, I know your weaknesses. You meet a hot guy and you might like him or not. But you meet a hot guy who can drum and you turn to mush."

"I'm not mush." Spencer looked around to make sure Bob hadn't magically appeared behind him before adding, "He does have nice arms, doesn't he? And thighs. He offered to show me his relaxation _techniques_." He made the word sound as dirty as he hoped it was going to be.

Brendon made a turned on little sound that could only be described as "nrrrrgh"--which Spencer didn't really need to hear-- then said, "Gah. You...well, you have fun, Spence. Play safe."

Spencer laughed and said goodbye as he unlocked his car and put the drum sticks in the back seat. Then he walked back to the store to meet Bob, trying to look less nervous than he actually was.

***

Bob took Spencer to a little Chinese restaurant right down the street from the store. As they walked, Bob told Spencer little bits about the various businesses--how the manager of that bank once got locked in his own vault and the woman who owned the clothing store just broke up rather spectacularly in the middle of the street with the counterman at the sandwich shop. When they passed a coffee house, Bob said, "Patrick's playing a set there on Monday night. You should come by."

"I'll try to make it," Spencer said, already figuring out who he could probably switch shifts with so he could get off work early. "You gonna be there?"

"Yep, I'm doing sound for it," Bob said and then he held the door to the restaurant open for Spencer.

"Hi, Bob," said the middle-aged Chinese lady behind the counter. "Table for two?" She gave Spencer an appraising look and added, "I'll put you in the romantic corner."

Completely ignoring the stack of menus at the end of the counter, she motioned for them to follow her to a candlelit table in a corner far away from both the restrooms and the kitchen.

Bob's ears were pink as he said, "Thanks, Mrs. P."

As soon as they were seated, she took their drink orders then pinned Spencer with an intense look. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"Uh...no," he said, glancing at Bob. When he turned back, Mrs. P. was gone. "What was that about?"

"She's going to bring us tonight's special. Trust me, whatever it is will be good," Bob assured him. "If you don't like it, I know a really good pizza place on the next block."

"I'll put myself in your hands."

Bob grinned and didn't say anything as Spencer realized what he'd said. "Oh, man," he groaned, covering his face with one hand.

"I'm going to take pity on you and not say one of the half-dozen things that just went through my head. You can thank me later." Bob reached over and pulled Spencer's hand away from his face, then didn't let go. He just held Spencer's hand while he changed the subject. "When are you guys playing again?"

"Next Saturday. There's a local band showcase. Ryan talked them into letting us into it because we live here _now_."

"That's local enough for me," Bob said with a nod, and then the conversation drifted to other topics--still mostly music related--and then Mrs. P. came back with a much younger woman who set down huge plates in front of them. Mrs. P. told them what the dish was called, but Spencer had never heard of it and couldn't have pronounced it correctly if he'd tried, but it smelled and looked amazing.

Bob and Spencer both thanked the ladies, who waited and watched while the men took their first bites. Spencer smiled around a mouthful of rice and vegetables and nodded, and hoped that conveyed his pleasure. Bob swallowed and said, "Delicious as always, Mrs. P."

Once they were alone again, neither Bob nor Spencer said much for a few minutes. The food was too good to be distracted, and when Spencer's phone rang, he hit 'ignore' and said, "Sorry."

A minute later, his phone pinged with a text message, and he glanced down to see that it was from Ryan: CALL ME BACK!!! IMPORTANT!!!

Spencer held his phone up so that Bob could see the screen. "He's broken out the all caps and exclamation points."

"Sounds serious," Bob agreed.

"You wouldn't mind too much if I called him back, would you? I'd ignore him, but...all caps. Generally Ryan feels the shift key is for other people."

Spencer let out a relieved breath when Bob smiled and waved him off. "No, go ahead."

With another quick "sorry", Spencer got up and headed for the restroom to call Ryan back, but his phone rang again before he got two feet from the table. He rolled his eyes at Bob and clicked it on, saying, "This better be really fucking important."

"Pete Wentz works for Decaydance and wants to see us play again. He's interested in signing us. Is that important enough for you?"

"Wait, what?" Spence didn't realize how high his voice had gone until Bob got up and came over with a concerned look on his face.

Bob said "Is everything okay?" just as Ryan repeated what he'd said before, his voice rising almost to a shout by the end.

"Yes," Spencer said to both Bob and Ryan at the same time.

"He's got us a gig at a club on Tuesday. He wants to see us again before he decides if we're ready or not." Ryan's voice went muffled as he most likely moved the phone away from his face and said, "Yes, Brendon, I'll tell him that part too." Then to Spencer, "Brendon wants me to tell you that Jon is a sneaky motherfucker and totally knew all about Pete but wouldn't tell the rest of us because he didn't want us to be nervous."

Spencer glanced at Bob who was still hovering nearby. "Didn't work. I was anyway."

"Oh, shit, right, you're on a date. Call me later or come by Brendon's instead of going home. I mean," Ryan added archly, "assuming you were planning on going home tonight."

Spencer carefully didn't look at Bob when he said, "Yeah, I'll let you know. Goodbye."

Spencer turned and sat back down at the table and waited for Bob to settle before saying, "So, your friend Pete. Decaydance Records, huh?"

"Yeah, he just signed Patrick."

"And you never thought to mention this?"

"Spencer. Do you know how many musicians I talk to on any given day? If they all thought I could get them attention from a label, I'd never have a moment's peace."

"Okay, I see your point."

"Also," Bob continued with a nod to show he'd heard Spencer but was on a roll, "I don't have any influence with Pete. I didn't even invite him and Patrick to your show last night. Jon did."

"Jon is in for such an ass-kicking."

"Fair enough, but maybe he didn't want to get your hopes up. Pete doesn't go around talking about signing every band he sees and he sure as hell doesn't sign all his friends. The guy seems to know half the population of northern Illinois and a good chunk of Milwaukee. Him knowing Jon is no guarantee of anything."

Spencer gave this some thought and said, "Jon Walker has no idea how lucky he is that you and I met."

"I'd like to think he's not the only one," Bob said and then looked down at his plate. He picked at a piece of broccoli like it was the most fascinating thing on Earth.

"No," Spencer said, smiling when Bob looked at him again. "He's not the only one."

 

***

 

Bob walked Spencer back to his car and they stood there awkwardly for a moment before Spencer moved in close and Bob leaned forward at the same time. Spencer stepped on Bob's foot and Bob's nose banged into Spencer's as their mouths nearly crashed together. They both pulled back a bit sheepishly and then tried it again. They were both laughing when they finally kissed.

Bob tasted like ginger and smoke and his beard tickled Spencer's chin, making Spencer imagine what it would feel like brushing against other parts of his body. He shivered as Bob's hands settled on his hips, big and warm and surprisingly gentle. Spencer leaned into the touch and slid his hands up Bob's arms, the feel of firm muscle under smooth skin making him half-hard.

A wolf whistle from across the street made them break apart. Bob looked over to see where it came from and then flipped off some kid with curly hair, who laughed and gave him a thumbs up before continuing on his way.

"Friend of Butcher's," Bob explained. "You want to take this some place more private?" He motioned down the street and added, "I live above the store."

Spencer licked his lips and nodded, projecting calm even though in the back of his mind a little voice was freaking out. He'd wanted Bob since he'd first laid eyes on him, but he'd never imagined it could be this easy. Another little voice in the back of his head told him that maybe he should get to know Bob better first, make sure he wasn't a freaky perv or a serial killer or something. He told both little voices to shut the hell up and followed Bob around to the back of the building where Bob unlocked the back door and went up a dimly lit staircase to unlock yet another door.

Bob's apartment was a loft that took up the entire top floor of the building, with high wood-beamed ceilings and matching wood floors. The door opened into a kitchen area and off to one side Spencer could see an open door that appeared to lead to a bathroom. A sitting area took up the middle of the room with a large overstuffed couch, a couple chairs, and a scuffed coffee table that was littered with remotes and game controllers. The TV had cables and wires coming out in all directions, connections to a pretty pricey-looking stereo and at least three game systems. The far end of the room was the sleeping area--a king sized bed dominated the space and made everything else fade from Spencer's consciousness.

Bob motioned to the couch and said, "Have a seat. You want something to drink? I've got Red Bull, beer, and..." He opened the refrigerator and looked inside. "Oh. Just Red Bull and beer, then. And water."

"Beer's fine," Spencer said, but he didn't sit down right away. He wandered over to look at the drum kit set up in the corner--continually glancing at the bed in his peripheral vision--and was immediately entranced by the antique mahogany snare on a stand set slightly apart from the rest. His fingers hovered over it without touching. "Bob, this is awesome."

"What?" Bob straightened up and closed the refrigerator door. He brought two bottles of beer over to where Spencer was trying not to drool over the drums. "Oh yeah, it's a Ludwig parade drum from the '20s. I got it for practically nothing at an estate sale a few years ago. It was in pretty bad shape so the restoration cost more than the drum, but it was worth it."

Shoving the beer into Spencer's hands, Bob got a couple sticks from a bag on the wall shelf crammed with tools and hardware and tapped out an almost-familiar rhythm.

"Wow," Spencer breathed, even more turned on than when Bob was kissing him. He realized that was fucked up but couldn't bring himself to care much. "That sounds amazing."

Bob didn't smile exactly but looked kind of proud anyway and played a little more. Spencer closed his eyes and listened, trying not to get hard but it was a lost cause. Even without seeing him, Bob was still hot when he played and it boggled Spencer that Bob didn't have a regular band.

The drumming stopped so Spencer opened his eyes to see Bob rubbing his right wrist, but as soon as Bob noticed him watching, he stopped and held out a hand for the beer Spencer still had clutched to his chest. He handed one to Bob and twisted the top off the other, taking a long drink. "That was good. You're really good."

"Thanks." Bob quirked an eyebrow and stood up, moving to stand just outside Spencer's personal space. He sipped at his beer and just watched Spencer over the bottle. After a moment, he glanced down Spencer's body and smirked. "I never turned someone on by drumming before."

"I find that very hard to believe," Spencer said, his face going warm at the word 'hard'. "um. I mean. You probably just didn't know it."

"Shame." Bob set his beer down, took Spencer's out of his hand, and put it on the shelf behind him. He put his hands on Spencer's hips and leaned in, just barely brushing his lips against Spencer's. Spencer pressed back, opened his mouth a little and Bob took the hint, deepening the kiss and pulling Spencer close until their hips were nestled together and Spencer could feel that Bob was getting turned on too.

He pushed closer and whoa, Bob was definitely getting turned on. Spencer could feel Bob's erection pressing into his and it felt...substantial. Spencer had never particularly been a size queen, but he wanted to get his hands and mouth on Bob's cock as soon as possible. He pulled back and look down, his mouth watering at the thought, and he swallowed hard. Bob slid his hands under the edge of Spencer's shirt, sending shivers down Spencer's spine. Spencer hooked the fingers of one hand in the waist of Bob's pants and pulled at Bob's belt buckle with the other, raising his face for another kiss. Bob smiled against his mouth and started moving them toward the bed.

"Yeah," Spencer gasped and shoved Bob over onto the mattress. Bob made an amused sound and spread his arms out, looking up at Spencer expectantly. Spencer ignored the smirk playing at the corner of Bob's mouth and went straight for his pants, getting them open in record time. He worked his hand inside and wrapped it around Bob's cock, surging up to catch Bob's mouth in a messy off-center kiss as Bob's arms wrapped around him.

Spencer squeezed Bob's cock and ground his own erection against Bob's hip, while Bob seemed content to let him do whatever he wanted. Spencer slid his hand down and then back up, rubbing his thumb across the head, and Bob made a little noise in the back of his throat and thrust his tongue into Spencer's mouth, fast and dirty before pulling back and saying, "Hold on." Then he flipped them over so that Spencer was on his back and tugged at his legs until they were both fully on the bed.

Spencer slid his hand over Bob's hip while he kicked his shoes off and shoved at Bob's pants. Bob kissed Spencer's throat as he worked Spencer's jeans and underwear off, and Spencer tilted his head back and gasped at the sensation of Bob's open mouth sliding up his neck, all hot and wet, and then Spencer was naked below the waist and Bob was pushing at his shirt and sitting up to get his own shoes and socks off.

Spencer got his shirt half unbuttoned and then just skinned it off over his head. He grabbed Bob's hoodie and tried to jerk it off but Bob said, "Ow, fuck," as it got stuck on his face or something.

"Shit. Sorry. You do it," Spencer said, apology turning to bossiness. He couldn't help it, though. He was going to die of frustration if they didn't get back to the good stuff soon. He tugged at the waistband of Bob's pants. "Come on."

Bob's voice was muffled by his hoodie, but it sounded like he was laughing when he said, "Not in a hurry are you?"

That didn't deserve an answer, so Spencer just pushed Bob onto his back and worked harder at getting Bob's pants and underwear off, stripping them down until he got distracted by Bob's thighs and oh, hi, Bob's dick. Spencer ducked down and mouthed at the head of Bob's cock and didn't protest when Bob tangled his fingers in Spencer's hair.

Bob tugged on Spencer's hair and Spencer opened his mouth wide and swallowed as much of Bob's cock as he could, squeezing and stroking the rest with his hand. Bob made an incoherent sound and Spencer glanced up to see Bob watching him, his eyes hot and dark. Spencer pulled off and smiled up at Bob as he stroked him quickly for a minute before licking the head and rubbing it over his lips. Then he lowered his mouth and sucked for all he was worth. He was rewarded with a loud groan and Bob whimpering his name while he pulled Spencer's hair--not hard, just enough to get his attention. Spencer released Bob's cock with an obscene pop and let Bob pull him up for a devouring kiss as Bob reached down and grabbed both their cocks and jerked them desperately. The dual sensations of Bob's callused hand and smooth wet cock rubbing against his tipped Spencer over the edge ridiculously fast and he was coming before he even realized he was going to. Bob followed a few seconds later, grunting into Spencer's mouth and biting at his lower lip.

 

While he caught his breath, Spencer flopped over onto his back and settled his head on the pillow next to Bob, who had his eyes closed and said, "Gimme a minute," sounding so relaxed he was already half-asleep.

Spencer grunted in response and closed his eyes. When he opened then again, nearly an hour had passed and the stickiness on his belly was drying and itchy. He was alone in the bed, but Bob came out of the bathroom before Spencer could do more than sit up.

Bob had put on a pair of boxers and nothing else. He tossed a damp washcloth to Spencer and then grabbed the beers they'd abandoned earlier.

Spencer cleaned himself off and reached for his clothes on the floor beside the bed, but Bob put a bottle in his hand and then climbed back into the bed.

Taking a drink, Spencer couldn't keep himself from grimacing. "Sorry, it's kinda warm."

"Yeah, but I didn't want it to go to waste," Bob said with a shrug. He took a drink of his and reached for Spencer's.

"Hey, now, I didn't say I wouldn't drink it." Spencer grinned and took another, longer sip. It wasn't really that bad once he got used to it. Bob gave him a satisfied quirk of the lips that on anyone else would barely be noticeable, but Spencer was coming to realize was practically a grin coming from Bob.

They drank in companionable silence propped against the pillows and when his beer was gone, Spencer said, "I guess I should..." and reached for his clothes again.

"If you want to," Bob said, setting his bottle aside and pulling Spencer back down to the bed and kissing him until he was flushed and panting. "Or," Bob said, dropping a kiss to Spencer's jaw and nibbling down the length of his neck, "or, you could stay a while."

"Okay. Yeah." Spencer's voice caught as Bob sucked on a particularly sensitive spot at the edge of his collar bone.

***

When Spencer finally left Bob's, he went straight over to Brendon's instead of going home. He wanted to stay but he knew the guys would be losing their minds over Pete being interested in the band.

He'd barely knocked on the door when it was flung open and Brendon was throwing himself into Spencer's arms. "We're gonna be signed!"

Spencer looked over Brendon's shoulder to see Jon watching with wide eyes and Ryan chewing on his thumbnail, which he took away from his mouth just long enough to say, "We don't know that yet."

"He already said we had potential. I think that means we're in," Brendon said with irrepressible optimism as he finally let Spencer go.

"Well--" Spencer started, but Ryan jumped to his feet and started pacing around the tiny living room.

"We'll have to practice more, every spare minute, until Tuesday."

"Patrick's playing a set at a coffeehouse down the street from Bob's store on Monday night. I kind of promised I'd go. I mean, you should all come. Pete'll probably be there."

Ryan thought about it for a while, and finally said, "Well, okay, but we practice all day tomorrow. Anyone scheduled to work better call in sick because this is more important. This is everything, guys."

***

 

Since he came straight from work, Spencer got to the coffeehouse a little early. He realized he was still wearing his nametag when he got out of his car, and had to stop and take it off before walking across the parking lot to the front of the building.

Bob was standing outside smoking a cigarette when Spencer walked up and he smiled around the filter, not taking it out of his mouth as he said, "Spence. Wasn't sure you'd show up."

"Why? I said I would."

Bob hitched his shoulders and squinted up at a street light. "You seemed in a hurry to leave Saturday."

"Oh. Well, you know, the news about Pete being interested in signing our band, and then there was...I didn't want you to think..." Spencer trailed off because what came to mind next sounded a little lame and pathetic.

Bob raised his eyebrows and took another drag.

"My band needed me, and I didn't want to overstay my welcome?" Spencer hated that it sounded like a question, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Hmm." Bob shrugged and looked away. After crushing out his cigarette in the ashtray on top of the trashcan next to him, he shoved his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and said, "Look, I don't play games and I don't have any time for drama, so let me just go ahead and explain something. I'll tell you when you've overstayed your welcome. And I'm really glad you came tonight because I wanted to see you again."

"Yeah, me too," Spencer said, flapping a hand at the coffeehouse. "Obviously."

Bob smiled and took his hands out of his pocket. "Okay, well. Okay."

"I think this is the part where it _stops_ being awkward," Spencer said with a wry grin that was more than a little self-deprecating.

"Yeah," Bob agreed and then they both laughed a little and that dispelled some of the tension--the normal social tension, anyway. The sexual tension remained as Spencer watched Bob push open the door to the coffeehouse and couldn't help remembering what he looked like naked. He felt his face flush when Bob said, "Did you want to go in or what?"

Spencer followed him inside and said, "If you wanna grab a table, I'll get us some drinks."

"Yeah, okay, just black coffee for me," Bob said and he looked a little surprised that Spencer had offered which Spencer almost felt offended by. But then Bob flicked his tongue over his lip ring in an oddly uncertain gesture and Spencer instantly forgave him.

A few minutes later, Spencer found Bob sitting at a table near the small area of the floor where a stool and microphone had been set up. As stages went, it wasn't much, but fit with the overall size and feel of the place. Spencer set Bob's coffee in front of him and sat down next to him. He took a sip of his cappuccino and smiled. "This is really good. Better than Starbucks--don't tell Jon I said that."

Bob sipped at his coffee and nudged his knee against Spencer's under the table as he laughed and said, "I'm sure Jon will agree anyway."

With Bob touching him, Spencer couldn't give a shit about coffee or Jon or anything else except having Bob touch him some more. He pressed his knee back against Bob's and grinned like an idiot when Bob smiled kind of sweetly and said, "You want to go back to my place when this is over?"

"Yes." Spencer didn't even have to think about it, but he was going to have to distract himself if he wanted to focus on Patrick's performance and not of ripping Bob's clothes off and having his way with him right here on the coffeehouse floor. He cleared his throat and sipped his drink, watching Bob over the rim of the cup. "So...what kind of music does Patrick play?"

"Kind of bluesy, jazzy, R&amp;B...uh, pop/rock, I guess. His influences are kind of all over the place." Bob nodded at the look on Spencer's face. "I know. But he's really good. And to think, he'd still just be giving guitar lessons if Pete hadn't heard him singing in the shop one day."

"Oh, man, tell me this is one of those Hollywood-style fairy tales where Pete randomly just happened to come to your store and overheard Patrick singing and decided to make him a star," Spencer said with a laugh. He was actually starting to believe his own band had a chance of getting signed now, if this was how Pete worked.

"Well, not really...but kind of," Bob said, with a wobbly hand gesture. "He'd heard about Patrick through one of my drum students who had heard Patrick sing, so he came to see for himself. He basically walked in one day, said 'are you Patrick? Sing something for me.' To which Patrick replied that Pete could go and fuck himself."

Spencer leaned his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hand and said, "Keep going. What happened next?"

"Well, it's Pete so he didn't give up. Just kept coming around and Patrick kept ignoring him because he thought Pete was just trying to get in his pants--which, heh, yeah." Bob paused and rolled his eyes and took a long drink of his coffee, before continuing, "But anyway, after a couple weeks, Pete finally heard him sing and instantly fell in lust with Patrick's voice. Then he had to spend a few months convincing Patrick that he really did work for a label and Patrick really could make a record--and getting in Patrick's pants."

"And now here we are?" When Bob nodded, Spencer looked around. "Where is Patrick anyway?"

"Last time I saw him he was having a small panic attack in the bathroom and Pete was talking him down."

"Panic attack, huh?"

"Just a small one." Bob held his fingers up less than a quarter-inch apart. "Tiny. He'll be fine."

Spencer settled back in his chair and waved when he saw Brendon and Ryan come in. He looked at Bob and said, "I told the guys about this. I hope that's okay?"

"It's okay with me. Just as long as they don't expect to come along for the rest of our date." Bob touched Spencer's thigh with just the tips of his fingers and then put both hands on the table and straightened up so that his knee was no longer pressing against Spencer's.

Spencer ignored the distance Bob put between them and just hooked his foot around Bob's ankle as Ryan and Brendon came over and sat down.

Ryan gave first Spencer and then Bob a long searching look and then nodded slightly, giving his tacit approval. "Jon's going to be a little late. He couldn't get out of work early."

Brendon barely let him finish before saying, "Where's Patrick? Is Pete here?"

"They're both here," Bob said calmly. He looked at the cup clutched in Brendon's hand and tilted his head toward Spencer and muttered, "I hope that's decaf."

Brendon stopped bouncing in his seat. "I heard that."

"Don't care." Bob shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, but Spencer caught the quick little smile Bob sent in his direction. He started to say something, but just then Jon came rushing in, saying, "Sorry I'm late."

He threw himself in the chair next to Ryan, as Pete came out of the restroom and grinned when he saw them all waiting. "My favorite baby band!" he exclaimed with an expansive gesture.

Spencer stiffened until Bob leaned in and breathed against his ear, "Just let it go." And Spencer felt himself start to relax almost immediately.

"Are you ready for your show tomorrow?" Pete asked, patting Jon on the shoulder and giving the rest of them a beaming smile.

Spencer and the rest of his band made various positive responses, and Bob said, "You know, Pete, you've already heard them play a typical show. You ought to already know if you want to sign them or not. Stringing them along is not cool."

"Bob," Pete said repressively and frowned. "You know how these things go. It's not just me. I have to let my A&amp;R guy hear them too."

"He never had to hear Patrick." Bob raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Spencer wanted to kiss him. He was kind of hot confronting Pete on Panic's--on _Spencer's_\--behalf.

"Patrick is special," Pete said insistently, but the look on his face was soft and dreamy. After a few seconds of mooning, he shook his head and looked down at Ryan. "Don't worry, kids, you'll be fine. It's really just a formality."

Ryan's eyes got huge and his mouth fell open like he was afraid to believe it. Brendon threw himself out of his chair and into Pete's arms for a bone-cracking bear hug. Jon grinned like he'd never expected anything else, but Spencer detected the relief in his eyes. It was only when Bob slid an arm around his shoulders and squeezed that Spencer realized he was so busy watching everyone else's reaction that he'd managed to not freak out himself.

He turned to grin at Bob just as Bob leaned closer, and then they were kissing. It started out soft and chaste, but quickly went deeper and more involved. The entire world just fell away as Spencer tangled one hand in Bob's hair and gripped his hoodie with the other, holding on tight as if he thought someone was going to rip Bob away from him.

"What the hell, Bob?" Patrick's voice cut into the lust-addled haze that had enveloped Spencer's brain just as Bob pulled away and smiled sheepishly at Spencer.

"Um, celebrating?" Bob said, as Pete laughed so hard he doubled over trying to catch his breath. Spencer felt his face go hot and knew he was blushing but he couldn't stop smiling either.

Patrick stood there for a moment, clutching his guitar to his chest, and finally said, "So you think you could finish that up later? Because I have to go play now and I don't need another floorshow competing for people's attention."

"Sure thing, Patrick. Break a leg," Bob said with badly concealed laughter hiding behind every word. As Patrick turned away to take his place in the spotlight, Bob turned to Spencer and whispered in his ear, "We'll definitely finish that later."

"Yes, we will," Spencer agreed, curling his hand around Bob's under the table.

 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for saba1789 for help_haiti, sorry it's so late, bb. Hope it's at least close to what you wanted. :) Thanks to nemoinis and sperrywink for beta and support. The weak title and anything else wonky is my damage not their fault.


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